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One of the Saddest Scenes Ever

2014-04-27 13.11.18 Luna--FB 6-6-14One of the saddest scenes I’d ever seen. My stomach dropped and my blood pressure jumped as I watched the pitbull lying on the pavement under the bridge. It was a bitterly cold day. The body covered in a smorgasbord of blankets and clothing haphazardly piled rump to neck. Sticking out from this cocoon of fabrics was a head. A head turned on its side. Completely still.

I waited and waited for something. Anything. I feared the worst but so desperately wanted that body to move. To give me just one signal that there was still life within. But that movement, any movement, was not there.

I approached as quietly as I could. I walked stiffly. Like my feet did not want to go there. It was only a few steps but they seemed to take forever.

So many thoughts happening all at once. In what was just a matter of seconds. But I was right there now. Right next to this dog that looked just like so many others that The Pongo Fund cares for. Soft white fur. Short hair. Pink around the nose. Solid head.

That solid head that causes so much fear for so many. But I knew it was the kind of head that had burrowed into many a chest bringing sloppy kisses. With a rump wiggling like a blur, bouncing with joy. Yes, it was that kind of dog. But not now. Not anymore. A dog that was still not moving.

As I readied a prayer, I jumped out of my skin as I heard him let out a giant snore. A SNORE. A sawing logs kind of snore. Raspy. Coarse. The perfect snore. A quick yawn. A lick of the lips. And without moving an inch, all in a split second, I realized this friend was sleeping.

And as I was trying to remember to breathe, a loud voice yelled at me from behind. “What are you doing? Leave my dog alone!”

I spun around to find a man, just a few feet away, wearing just a tshirt and shorts. He was shaking from the cold. A snoring dog at my feet. And an angry man steps away looking for answers. And all I had were tears.

I told him what had happened. That I was with The Pongo Fund and I was feeding the animals under the bridge. And as I started to explain what The Pongo Fund was, he quickly interrupted and said he knew. We talked. His teeth chattered. He had no coat. No protection from the cold.

Because everything he had was piled on his sweet friend to make sure he was not cold. The pitbull that was sawing logs. Buried underneath a lovingly crafted pile of clothing and blankets.

This man explained so many things to me at that moment. It felt like I was talking to the Dalai Lama directly. Maybe I was. He told me his dog counted on him. That he counted on his dog. And that they did all they could to keep each other warm in the bitter cold.

I told him that he needed some winter clothes. That he needed to stay warm and dry too.

And he continued, telling me how it was on so many nights that it was his dog that kept him warm. And when he got up that morning to “freshen up” he piled all the clothing on his dog to make sure he stayed warm.

That was why. Such a simple answer. And it made complete sense.

A man was cold so his dog was not.

But I knew this man was really cold. He was shivering. Even if he put all those clothes back on he would still need more to survive the winter streets. I told him that I would get him and his dog a room for a couple of nights. That I would take him to a nearby store and get him some winter clothes.

He said no thank you. Because others deserved those things more than they did. He was proud. He was obstinate. He was cold. His dog snored.

And then he said something that pretty much knocked me over.

He asked me about Scooby. My Scooby. My 20 year-old dog. I asked him how he knew Scooby and he said he’d seen us at the park. I told him Scooby was good.

He smiled. He said he was glad to hear that. The man was about my size. He knew Scooby. But here he was shivering. And I was not.

So I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out a handful of pooh bags. Some treats too. I told him it was my Scooby coat. The one I wore when we walked in cold weather. I took it off and told him that Scooby would want him to have it.

It was a comfortable coat. It had a lot of stories. It was warm. And it was covered in Scooby hair.

I pushed it toward him in a way that would not let him say no. And he took it. He held it for a moment. He scrunched it up. He put it on. He said thank you. I asked him how long they’d be there. He said a bit. I asked him to wait for me.

I walked back to my car without my coat. And I drove straight home and grabbed a pair of my Scooby dog walking pants and some shirts. Some socks. Gloves. A flashlight. Some pocket warmers. Dog treats. Some other things too. Some new. Some not. But each one Scoobified.

And I drove back fast as I could, stopping only to get this cold man some hot coffee and hot breakfast.

He was still there. Sitting next to his dog. Watching him sleep. The very thing that I enjoy doing. I know you enjoy that too.

I walked over and presented him with this bulging armful of items. I looked like a walking thrift store. And then I went back to my car for more. The new sleeping bag. The dog food. The dog coat. The new leash and food bowl and more treats.

And I just stood there. Looking at everything I had brought for him and his sweet dog and I was so hopeful that at least some of it would be welcomed. That some of it would be helpful. That these items, many of them covered in Scooby hair, would bring him the same comfort they brought me.

He looked at everything and then looked at me. He looked back at it. He looked at me again. Back at it. Back to me. And he asked me why I brought him all that stuff. He wanted to know why I did this for him. Why I did this for his dog.

And as his dog continued to snore, I told him I didn’t do it. Scooby did.

Winter is upon us. We’ll run into more and more people like this. They will need us. Their dogs will need us. Last year a core group of our Facebook Friends made donations to help these most fragile people. To help them. To help their dogs. Cats too.

When it was over many of you reached out to me and said you did not know you could donate to The Pongo Fund to help the people too. And you asked me to let you know when we needed you again. The time is now.

If you’d like to donate to our Cold Weather Fund to help provide desperate folks with care and comfort during the coldest weather, please go to this link https://giveguide.org/#thepongofund and give what you can. In the line that says “Employer” please write Cold Weather Fund.

If you prefer, you may also use our Paypal https://www.thepongofund.org/contact/donation-page/ .

Donations up to $5,000 will be doubled by a person special to The Pongo Fund. Someone who cares about helping others, both two-legged and four.

But please, do me two favors.

One, if you cannot afford to give, please know that is ok. I’ll be just as happy to have you send some kind words and good thoughts. Because they bring warmth too. Because we’re all in this together.

And two, please do not post comments telling me that I did something special. Because I did exactly what any of our kind and caring Pongo volunteers would have done. What you would have done had you been there. This time it just happened to be me.

Because again, we really are all in this together. What one does, we all do.

A man shivering in the cold so his dog does not. A dog sleeping soundly buried under a mountain of warmth. One had chattering teeth. One snored the most beautiful symphony ever.

And thanks to you we got to help them both.

And this is why we Pongo.

The donation links again: https://giveguide.org/#thepongofund or https://www.thepongofund.org/contact/donation-page/ .

Sit. Stay. Eat. Live. thepongofund.org

(Photo is not of the dog under the bridge, but another dog The Pongo Fund helps. They look very similar)